


.descent.

by Episan



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Alastor gets addicted to Starbucks, Demon possesion, Drug Addiction, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Heavy gore, Homicide, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kinda domestic living with Alastor, Mental Instability, Murder, Psychological Warfare, Reader is mid twenties, Slow Burn, Violence, Witchcraft, Yo this shit is going to be DARK, alcohol use, bad family relations, bad portrayal of religion, mentions of animal death, morals are for the weak, possible animal death, reader is from a rural area
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22167925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Episan/pseuds/Episan
Summary: Even in New Orleans, you can't seem to get away from the unlucky strangeness that is your life. It was a miracle in itself that you were able to join a new group of friends. Strange were their occultic interests and their breaking and entering obsession with an old, forgotten, run-down, studio.  And unlucky were you, to be possessed when a ritual you had no part in goes wrong.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) & Reader, Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 151





	.descent.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all.....It's gonna get DARKER from this point on. Also...I was going to add and image....BUT HOW???
> 
> Edit: Changed perspectives. Third was getting difficult to keep track of.

**Prologue**

Most of the conversation that led to this point was a blur, having spent a good portion of the night drinking in social obligation, but you were now holding open an old unlocked window they had found on their drunken excursion. The small two-story building was situated on an almost criminally quiet street. If the warmth of you drinks hadn’t been coursing through your body, you might have had more reservations about doing such a task. Let alone offer to hold open a window for their little giggling group to climb through. 

It was strange, you noted, the obsession your new little ragtag group of friends had with the old radio station. They spoke of the man who once owned the rundown place, a prolific killer from decades past, in almost an admirable way. You couldn't really consider it alarming, you supposed. Serial killers being a new popular topic for people around your age.

A call of your name jolted your attention and you realized you were now the only one left in the humid outside air. A girl, who you couldn’t quite remember the name of, motioned you to come in with a quick wave of her arm. You let out a huff of annoyance and watched the girl scamper after the others into the dark building, blonde bob bouncing with each chipper step. _'She could’ve at least held the window open for me.'_

The longer you hung out with the group tonight the more they seemed like straight-up _assholes_. First, a trip over a barstool only to smash your mouth into a table and bleed all over the damn place. _Then,_ thanks to window girl, your hair got caught in a mini handheld fan on the drive over, resulting in a good chunk of hair being snipped off. They didn’t even wake you whenever you dozed off at the bar. You could have blamed it on the drinks, but you seemed to be the only one even remotely tipsy. 

You let out a grunt, hefting a knee onto the dusty sill while your shaking arm did its best to keep the window pane above your head. A fraction of a teeter caused you to take an undignified tumble onto the dusty wooden floors below. The window slammed shut not even a second after, keeping the now unsettled dust contained in the small area of the room. You coughed, sneezed, and sputtered, the small particles invading your most sensitive senses. With watery eyes, you briefly contemplated your nonexistent life as a burglar. 

“I wouldn’t last two steps in a real break-in.” You said softly to yourself, realizing that this _was_ a break-in.

The lack of lighting around you, save for the streetlights pouring in from dust-covered windows, didn't do much to help you see. Silhouettes of toppled furniture pieces, some broken glass, and scattered papers laying close by was all you could make out. A few pat-downs and pocket digs later a cell phone was finally procured, a pin number, a few taps, and soon a new light was shining out in front of you. Thank whatever person decided to implement that feature onto the things. 

Shining the light across the room you could see the interior of what you assumed to be a lobby area. Pictures lined the walls, its old wallpaper unraveling in uneven streaks. A wooden desk was tipped over in the corner with its matching chair not far from it, bare item-wise yet covered in the same amount of dust as the floor beneath you. More papers were scattered about as were shards of glass that seemed to be from various broken bottles of booze. Looking back, it was a wonder you hadn't cut yourself during your landing. 

You carefully rose to your feet, attempting to dust yourself off with little success, and slowly made your way to the frames aligned along the wall. The frames we're nice, you noticed, stopping at the closest one. It wasn't like the fragile plywood things seemed to be made up of nowadays. You raised your hand and lightly caressed the side of the wooden frame. No splintering even though it was nearly a century old. The place was a mess and ever so slightly wrecked, but it was astounding how the building itself held up so well after so long. Especially after so little, if any, maintenance over the years. 

Squinting, you could see lines teasing you from under the dust on the glass. Using your thumb, you lightly rubbed away the thin layer and underneath...a young man grinned widely back at you. Short side-swept hair, small spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose, and a pinstripe suit definitely dating around the 1920s-30s. (One of the many pieces of information that was jammed into your brain this evening.) He was...pleasing to look at...in an aesthetic sort of way. That grin though, even though the old photograph you could tell something just...not right. You could almost feel your flight-or-fright response trying to claw its way past your rationality. 

“Hey.” You jumped, hand dropping from the frame, not at all noticing the head peering from around the corner at you before. The phone's light was just barely enough to make out the young woman's features. Black braided hair tossed over her shoulder and a dust of freckles graced her lightly tanned skin. It was Janet, your neighbor. Janet’s apartment door was just across from your own and she was the one to introduce you to the others. “Are you comin’?” 

“Oh. Uh,” You took a quick glance at the sepia picture in front of you, the man’s wide smile haunting you for just a moment longer. “Yeah. Sorry. Just got distracted.”

“Eh.” Janet shrugged, waiting until the other woman finally stood beside her. “I would’a gave it a nice look around too, but we had to get things situated.”

“Hm?” You rose a brow in question as you both made your way down the sort, dark, hall and through the doorway of a back room. “What things?...Oooh.”

The center of the room was cleared of dust and debris, the papers and other random items were now being lined along the walls by the girl who left you in the window. Two guys, brothers you had found out, were in the now cleaned center. Well, once clean. The eldest, Isaac, held a large piece of chalk in his hand, while swiftly and steadily making five long lines on the floorboards, each one intersecting until the last connected line showed a five-pointed star was left.

“Nate,” Isaac huffed to his youngest brother, tucking a loose strand of his dark hair back into his beanie. The chalk tip was once again on the floor, his feet scooting him backward as he slowly circled the star. “Come help me with the veves. Ellie, go ahead and start the candles.”

The younger and window girl moved towards a bag that was discarded to the side of the, now, pentagram. You watched as Nate shuffled through the bag before finally handing what looked to be tall candles over to the window girl, Ellie. Two. Three. Five. And finally another large piece of white chalk. They got to work.

Nate mimicked his brother, running a hand through his own brown strands before continuing to draw the strange symbols as Ellie placed a candle at each point of the star.

"So…uh...Janet." You looked to the girl beside You. "What _are_ we doing exactly?"

Janet's eyes widened just a fraction of a second and stumbled over her words." We -uh- thou-"

"We thought-" A voice cut her off, the book in the persons hands loudly snapping shut, bringing everyone's attention to the man standing in front of the fireplace. Old taxidermy heads of various forest animals lifelessly looking on above, a deer skull sat behind him on the mantle, antlers stretching wide and menacing even from behind the man. Dramatic bastard.. "-It would be a fun little initiation for you into the group." 

"So," You looked at the man, Ian, the head of the group as you had guessed on your previous, yet brief, interactions with him, in suspicion. You were getting fed up with their antics tonight. "you're basically hazing me, right? Can't say I'm really thrilled about this..."

Ian's face briefly fell in shock, not quite expecting the negative reaction, but smiling wider nonetheless. It didn't quite reach his eyes. "No, No. Don't worry. You don't have to participate or anything if you're uncomfortable with it."

"But Ia-" Window girl perked up.

" _It's fine_ , Nellie." He quickly cut her off. "We rushed her into this stuff without much consideration on her part. Besides, we have everything we need."

This seemed to appease her and she got back to lighting the last candle, the boys both finishing up not a moment later. 

The outcome was eerie, to say the least. The pentagram almost glowed under the light of the candle fire, the normal Latin, like seen in most horror movies, replaced with those strange symbols. What were they called again? Veves? Some looked familiar to you, marked on the shops of old store windows, but you didn't know them. Where they came from. What they meant.

Now, pentagrams themselves never bothered you much. Many people in your old town going beyond their family superstitions and traditions to full-on embrace the new age witchcraft movement. You yourself may have participated in a few lucky rituals and castings during study groups whenever you were a student at your old college. Finals required all the help possible, after all. However, none went beyond that of lucky charms, intention chants, and a few tarot readings. You weren't a saint. Weren't beyond experimenting with the occult either.

There were many superstitions you still believed and abided by even now, out of habit more so than anything. Never close a pocket knife if you weren't the first to open it, knock on wood for good luck, always leave the brooms when moving out of a home, and bad things always come in threes. These were a few of the many things you had been taught. You grew up around it. Those things were _familiar._ This was _not_. If your Grammie taught you anything before passing on it was to _never fuck with that which you don't know_.

“You all can go ahead, but I’ll be sitting this one out.” You made your way to an old dusty chair that looked to have been moved to the corner, judging by the streaks on the dusted floors leading to the fireplace. A small side-table seemed to have been moved along with it, and an old-looking radio sat on top of wooden surface.

The others moved around the circle, each one sitting in front of a lit candle at the points of the star. All the while, you plopped down on the plush chair, not caring that the dust would dirty your clothes. You were already filthy with it anyway, at this point it didn't make much of a difference.

You took a chance, briefly, to try and watch them continue on. When knives went to the palms, drawing enough blood to drip down, down, into the flames of the candles...you hefted the old radio onto your lap, trying to preoccupy yourself by wiping it down with the cuff of your sleeve.

You didn't like this. Anything involving blood was never a good thing. All the stuff you ever had the chance of doing only involved ingredients from the earth itself. Sticks, salt, herbs...maybe a few feathers found here and there....but never blood.

You looked, once again, when the chanting started. Words you had never heard before bouncing off the walls around them. Their eyes were closed, hand in hand, and focused. Your eyes flicked to the center, items you never noticed were there before now preoccupying the space. The large buck skull from the mantle, chipped, cracked and broken in places, now sporting a red 'x' on the forehead, sat in the center and faced Ian along with a bundle of...hair...and....a...red stained napkin?

Memories of the night came back to you.

A busted lip.

A snip of hair.

Hold.

The.

_FUCKING._

Phone.

“Hey! When did yo-” You quickly stood, radio tumbling to the floor in your panic and...pain. Intense burning pain hit between your furrowed brows. your vision became unsteady, continuously focusing in and out as your knees hit the floor, hands rising to clutch your forehead. There...was an unfamiliar texture. Through the pain, you took a quick glance at your hand, and on your fingers were red...flakes? _What the hell was happening?_

An intense red glow brought your attention to the circle, the group was speaking excitedly amongst each other but you couldn’t understand their fading words. A breeze blew around the room, picking up speed and the dust around them. The only thing you could see through it all was the center of the pentagram.

The heat was getting increasingly intense, the bundle of hair and napkin bursting in bright red flames, not even leaving behind a single speck of ash. The buck skull remained, the red ‘x’ glowing increasingly brighter with the heat. 

The radio beside you came to life, glowing and rapidly switching between stations. The static and feedback grew louder and louder, drowning out all of the other noises in the room until it was the only one to be heard. It made your ears ring. It hurt. It all did, but your head. Hurt. _Worse_.

A red ring appeared below the skull, extending out until it reached the ring of the pentagram, a hole now opened up and showing nothing but fiery depths. Black tendrils slowly extended from the edges of the ring, reaching out for anything to hold to. The skull. The _skull was moving_. Rising higher and higher, an arch of black nothingness rising with it. A hazy silhouette of limbs slowly forming until a tall vague figure loomed over them all. 

The blackness simmered off like a fine mist leaving a tall black and red being in its place. Its eyes snapped open from behind the skull still adorning its face, red and glowing. They pierced your own, excitable and hungry. You could see his smile growing wider even from behind the skull, the feeling it gave off reminded you of the one in the picture frame. 

Ian stood unsteadily, eyes wide and mouth agape, gazing up at the being in front of him. With a shake of his head he dusted off his shirt, slicked back his short light brown hair, straightened his back, and stuck out his hand. 

The being's eyes moved to look down at the man, a vague sneer crossing its features. Ian's hand shook as the static increased. As it grew _violent_.

“M-My name is Ian. It’s a pleas-” He didn't ̴g̷e̸t̴ ̶a̷ ̴c̵h̶a̴n̵c̷e̷ ̷t̷o̶ ̴f̵i̸n̷i̷s̴h̸.̵

  
R̴̟̊ě̶͉d̴̰̉ ̴̲͝

c̴̲͆o̵̻̿v̶̬͝e̸̝͑r̸͕͒e̵̩͆d̶̾͜ ̵̢̃

ẗ̸̻ḧ̵̖́e̸̗̕ ̷̨͘

ẇ̶̳a̴̖͆l̴̺͗l̴̤͑s̴̲̽.̵̡̇ ̵̋ͅ

S̵͓͐c̴̫̕r̷͈̊ḛ̵̒ă̴͓m̸̩̀s̸̤̚ ̵̝͗

ȃ̶̬n̸ͅd̶͎͌ ̸͚͒

t̸̟h̵͈͊è̴̡n̴̞̕

**S I L E N C E**   
  
  
  
  
  
**" W̵h̶y̵ ̸a̵r̴e̶ ̴y̷o̴u̷ ̴s̶m̴i̸l̶i̴n̶g̸,̵ ̶m̵y̶ ̴d̷e̷a̶r̷? "**


End file.
